


Serve Me, Save Me

by zoeliza



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Smut, hopefully smut with plot, im a sucker for slow burns tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:36:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24960145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoeliza/pseuds/zoeliza
Summary: You work in the kitchens of the Finalizer until, one day, you receive a promotion serving food to the officers, the Supreme Leader included. When he takes a liking to you, you're in for a bit more than you bargained for.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Kudos: 14





	Serve Me, Save Me

You were yanked from the blissful loll of sleep in much the same fashion you were everyday: to the deafening sound of pots and pans being smashed together in the rudest version of a wake up call you could imagine. You groaned, hearing your sound of protest echoed around the cabin by your crewmates.  
“Up! Up! Stop dawdling, you useless bunch of slugs!” The nasally, shrieking voice of Lantha Kesyk, the manager of the kitchenhands aboard the Finalizer, banged her metal makeshift instruments together right outside your cot, rattling your brain and making it impossible for you to sneak in an extra moment of sleep. With a heavy sigh you rolled over, pulling back the flimsy curtain that separated your bunk from the rest of the room. Lantha doubled back on the room, making sure everyone was, in one way or another, awake and rolling out of bed. She wasn’t all bad. She knew just as well as you did that you’d experience something much worse if you were late to your shifts. She just didn’t have time for nonsense.  
Beneath you, your closest friend aboard the vast ship, popped her head out from the bottom bunk to look up at you with sleepy eyes, her strawberry blonde space buns disheveled from sleep.  
“She just gets more and more unpleasant each morning, doesn’t she?” She yawned.  
“I heard that, Dallo!” Lantha shouted back into their room before disappearing out of the open door. Mila Dallo had a nasty habit of talking just a bit too loud. Sometimes you wondered if she was hard of hearing with the way she couldn’t quite seem to discern what constituted a normal speaking voice.  
“She’s gunna send you sailing out of an airlock one of these days, _Dallo_.” You teased, sitting up with a stretch. You turned to the inner wall of your sleeping pod, pressing the release button on the delivery door. Inside were your fresh set of grey kitchen scrubs for the day, delivered just the same every morning with your standard issue sleepwear arriving to replace it every night. If there was one thing you disliked about the Finalizer it was the lack of individuality.  
But alas there was not just _one_ thing you disliked about the Finalizer. Lack of clothing options was simply one of many.  
You hopped off your top bunk and landed next to Mila just as she was getting up off her low to the ground cot, her own uniform in hand.  
“I do hope she would stick you in an airlock,” one of your roommates chided in response to the teasing of your friend. “Your voice never fails to give me a headache, Mila.”  
“Oi!” Mila warned the other girl who was shorter than Mila’s unusually tall stature by a good few inches. “I’ll shove you out an airlock, Harper.”  
“Geez, Mila, take a joke!” The shorter girl shot back, earning a little shove from the taller. You laughed at their antics. You’d found that a lot of the relationships on the lower deck where the kitchenhands were housed tend to air on the side of siblingesque.  
In the few short months since you’d boarded a shuttle for the Finalizer, leaving behind nothing more than a broken home and memories you’d prefer to forget, the people you worked with in the Star Destroyer’s perpetually overheat kitchens had become the closest thing you’d ever known to family. It was a feeling you weren’t accustomed to. You’d grown up in a less than loving home on Chandrila. You’d cared for others, never been cared for. So, when a shuttle had touched down in the town near your rundown childhood farm looking for lowly First Order recruits you’d jumped at the opportunity and never looked back. While you’d been less than pleased with trading the rolling hills and calming seas of your home planet for the vast expanse of open space, there was nothing left for you on Chandrila.  
You reached underneath your pillow and slid a copper coin out from beneath it, an old form of currency from Chandrila and your only reminder of the planet you’d spent your whole life on. You closed your fist around it and followed the rest of your crewmates toward the cramped refreshers to change for the day.  
However, before you could file into the bathroom, you heard that distinct nasally voice call your name and you turned to find Lantha back at the corridor door, glaring at her datapad.  
“Looks like you’re being promoted,” she grumbled, not looking up at you as she tapped something out on the screen. You blinked at her.  
“Me?” What in the galaxy could _you_ be getting promoted for? “But I’m so new here. There are plenty of-”  
“Don’t argue. It’s done,” her eyes flickered to you for a moment. She appeared to be examining your features, something you didn’t think she’d ever actually done before. “Yes, you’re pretty enough, I suppose. You’ll just have to make do.”  
You gawked at the older woman. _Pretty enough?_ You thought, thoroughly vexed by her words. _What the kriff am I getting promoted to?_ “If I’m getting promoted to an escort or something I-”  
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she cut you off again. “You’re not _that_ pretty,” you narrowed your eyes at the older woman. _Like she’s one to talk._ “They’re short a waitress for Upper Management and I suppose they prefer their servers be easy on the eyes.” She shrugged as if it wasn’t a slightly creepy prerequisite.  
“I don’t know how to waitress.” You said flatly. You liked working down in the kitchens. You’d befriend many of the chefs and they were happy to slip you some of the Officer’s fancy foods to snack on, something you greatly appreciated after having spent most of your life half starved. It was also warm below deck; the few times you’d been above to the main level you’d quite nearly frozen your buns off. Not to mention everyone up above was so unbelievably uptight, you’d rather be a Hut than spend all your time around the pretentious Upper Management.  
“You’ll be trained, of course.” She rolled her eyes.  
“Why do they need another waitress anyway?” You crossed your arms and Lantha gave you another harsh look. She may have been rough on the outside but you knew the old woman had a soft spot for you.  
“She angered the Supreme Leader.” Lantha sniffed and your jaw dropped at her casual tone. Supreme Leader Kylo Ren was well known for his tantrums but you didn’t realize this job was putting you in the direct line of fire for the notorious being’s fiery wrath.  
“Is she _dead?_ ” You pressed, panic beginning to rise in the pit of your belly. You knew full well the bloodlust of the Supreme Leader. This job wasn’t sounding like a step up at all. Lantha sighed.  
“You better learn to hold your tongue when you’re up there or the same fate will befall you,” She snapped, almost as a threat. _Welp,_ you thought, _she was bound to get fed up at some point._ “Now collect your things and quickly. You get your own room with the other waitresses.” _So, that was the perk of the job._  
You squeezed the Chandrila coin in your palm. It was your only personal item on the ship.  
“I have everything.” You informed Lantha. Her eyes softened as she looked at you once more.  
“Come down and visit us when you can, alright, child?” You nodded, a slight twinge in your chest: affection for the old hag. “Now get out of here before you’re late, lazy girl.”  
***  
After informing Mila of your big promotion, which she’d been surprisingly _jealous_ about, and receiving your new rooming assignment from Lantha you’d hurried up a few decks to your new private cabin. This part of the job you could live with. You’d had only a few moments to glance around your new room – ever grey as the rest of the ship – with your own refresher and, for the first time in a long-time, true privacy.  
You were already far from a fan of your new trainer, Zena, who had walked into your room without warning while you were half naked, changing into your new uniform. She’d criticized you for not locking the door and you’d very much wanted to criticize her for simply invading your personal space without thinking to at least knock but you’d managed to keep your mouth shut and finish changing while Zena had tapped her toe impatiently in the corner of your room.  
Now you were shuffling toward the top deck’s dining room, trying to keep up with Zena but you could barely move your legs in the too tight dress, a familiar grey number that brushed the floor and unnecessarily hugged every curve of your body. It had a high neckline but no sleeves which you cursed, your teeth chattering. You missed the heat of the kitchens already.  
Zena was droning on about something to do with waitressing that you weren’t quite paying attention to. Something about _priority, attention to detail, keeping your mouth shut_ and _watching your step_. While you technically had no waitressing experience you weren’t bothering to pay too much attention. After all, how hard could it be?  
“You’ll really only be serving in the main dining room. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. Officers do have private dining rooms and sometimes they do request food be brought elsewhere but that would only be required of you if you were specifically requested and I doubt that will happen,” You glared at the back of her head, resisting the urge to yank her pretty blonde curls right out of her scalp. “General Hux requested _I_ bring him lunch in his office once. He…”  
You drowned her out again. Instead you chose to inspect your surroundings. They were unsurprisingly grey, the floors of black tile. Everywhere you looked pristine officers paced the halls, all looking down at their datapads. You passed several stormtroopers, too. _They_ gave you the heebie-jeebies. You didn’t know why but something about the stark white armor and black voids for eyes freaked you out. Everything on the upper decks was so formal and determined. The bustle of the kitchens often made you forget this was a military ship. You shivered…  
And then smacked right into Zena, who had stopped before you. You careened backward, barley catching yourself. Luckily you managed, making sure to give the other girl a firm scowl when you did. She was scowling right back.  
“Have you been listening to anything I’ve said?” She hissed. _No_ , you thought.  
“Yes.” You lied. You realized now that you had stopped outside a set of large blaster doors.  
“Thanks to _you_ , we’re a little late so I’ll have to show you the morning set up tomorrow,” _Great,_ you thought dryly. “There might already be Officers in there so just be quiet and watch what I do. And at least _try_ to learn their names.”  
You simply nodded, demonstrating your ability to be quiet, not that you’d given any indication to Zena you were anything but. This girl could _talk_. She started forward and the blast doors opened with a hiss. You followed her inside and couldn’t help from staring, wide eyed and slack jawed at the far wall – correction – _out_ the far wall. 

It was made up entirely of glass, the high ceiling of reflective black mirrored by an equally reflective black floor gave the appearance of an endless room of stars. All this time on the Finalizer and you’d never found a proper window. In all honesty, you’d thought you’d be scared staring into the void of space, but this was absolutely beautiful. An endless sea of twinkling stars and dancing nebula, with no light pollution like back on Chandrila, _nothing_ could have prepared you for the splendor that was space.  
In fact, you were so enthralled with the view that you hadn’t even registered the other people in the room. A few other girls in the same grey frock as your own lined the walls and a few sharply suited Officers sat at the oblong table that occupied most of the room. Near the far end a weasely looking man with a pinched face and fiery red hair stood droning on about troops and plans of attack. There was no doubt this was General Hux. He looked just as the descriptors of him circling the lower deck had described. The drone of his voice was characteristic of rumors, too.  
His tone, as pinched as his pale face, gave you a mild headache. How he managed to sound both bored and boring all wrapped up in a sort of whiney drawl that forced you to pay attention even though you didn’t want to was beyond you.  
Then, trying to focus on anything but this man’s voice, your eyes fell to the head of the table where sat who could be none other than Kylo Ren.  
Your breath hitched. If you had thought the stormtroopers freaked you out then this man, if that’s what he was under all the black anyway, put you entirely on edge. You wondered how you hadn’t noticed him before because the second you made eye contact with the black and chrome of his helmet a static seemed to envelope the room, the air seemed to be suck out as if you really were in a room of just space.  
He was huge and you knew it wasn’t just because of all that armor. His shoulders were wide, chest broad. His arms were noticeably muscular under wrappings of black cloth, his large, gloved hands sat in fists against the conference table and they seemed to clench even tighter as you took him in. You had to look away because you simply weren’t breathing with him in your field of vision.  
Your audible gasp for air earned you a stern look from Zena but nobody else seemed to pay you any mind. With your thoughts broken free of the Supreme Leader’s aura, General Hux’s painful tone rang anew in your ears, headache returning.  
“And so, _Supreme Leader_ ,” He said it almost like a challenge. You huffed to yourself wondering what he was doing challenging the likes of Kylo Ren. You had a suspicious feeling Ren could crush Hux like a grape if he so pleased. The General was shaping up to be a right petty twat. Surprisingly, the headache his voice induced seemed to subside. “I think it is unwise for you to continue this mission. It’s depleting our resources and it’s quite honestly boarding on manic behavior. I don’t hesitate to question your leadershi-”  
You didn’t understand what happened at first as the redhead cut off mid-sentence but then it became quite apparent that he was _choking_. You felt Zena grab your wrist and attempt to flatten you against the wall with her but you were frozen in place almost as if you too were being choked by the invisible force strangling General Hux and no doubt originating from the ever so slightly pinched thumb and forefinger of the Supreme Leader. As the General clutched at his throat, going red in the face, you should have been scared and yet you were enthralled.  
Eyes wide as saucers: _The Force is_ real, you thought. You’d heard about it, even tried to use it once or twice to no avail but nothing had prepared you for the fact that this man before you was having his throat constricted by nothing more than the conscious thought of the towering figure of black, now rising to his feet, looking down on the man he held at his mercy without touching him.  
He radiated pure, unadulterated power.  
You swallowed hard and there was a distinct pulse of heat between your thighs.  
_What the kriff is wrong with me?_  
You finally managed to join Zena against the wall, mentally kicking yourself for the reaction that any of this had had on you. And the being of black spoke:  
“Your lack of faith disturbs me, General Hux,” Your breath hitched. The modified voice of the Supreme Leader crackling in a deep, harrowing hum. “If it’s true you won’t hesitate to question my leadership then perhaps you need to consider if you’d _hesitate_ to value your life. I have my reasons and you’ll do well not to challenge them. I am the Supreme Leader for a reason. Now use the minuscule brain of yours for something useful, for once.”  
The General crumpled into his chair, a gasping heap, clutching at his neck. The other officers in the room were stiff and silent as the Supreme Leader rounded the table in a dangerous, sweeping cloud of black robes, his cape nipping at his ankles.  
“Meeting adjourned,” he growled, the sounded vibrating through the room, shaking you to your core. As he approached it became apparent just how _large_ he really was. You had to tilt your head all the way back to catch a glimpse of the dark void of under his visor where his eyes would be. You shivered, intimidation washing over you.  
“Head _down_!” Zena hissed quietly, elbowing you in the rips. You dropped your chin to your chest, chewing at your lip as you’d forgotten one of the most important rules.  
Apparently, you’d been too late. Your breath hitched when you saw the Supreme Leader’s leather boots halt in their tracks, squeaking against the black tile in their haste. Your eyes grew wide with terror as the toes turned to face you taking one large step in your direction, closing the distance.  
You’d only been on the upper deck for the better part of an hour and you’d already _royally_ fucked up. You spotted the famous lightsaber, a metallic T, glinting at his belt and you gulped. Either he’d cut you down or he’d choke you out, though the latter didn’t seem half bad.  
You mentally scolded yourself again. You were moments from certain death and your mind was in the gutter for the murderous Kylo Ren. The energy he exuded was throwing you for a loop.  
“You,” his voice purred through the modulator, its sound carnal and overpowering. Your knees locked and you thought you might pass out but in the slowest of gestures, you lifted your chin to meet his gaze, forcing all the confidence into your eyes as you could muster. You were met with the endless black pit of his helmet. “You will deliver my next meal to me in my corridors at 1300 hours.”

Your voice caught in your throat as you processed his request, looking to Zena for guidance. Her gaze was still to the floor though her eyes were as wide as your own.

“ _Look at me,_ ” he growled and the sound sent an electric shock through your system, your vision snapping to his so quickly it almost felt as though the motion hadn’t been of your own volition. You stared into the blank of his mask, swallowing hard. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you managed, fidgeting with the fabric of your dress to prevent your hands from shaking. The Supreme Leader let out an animalistic sound, the noise echoing around the room, frozen in time. His hand shot out to grasp your chin in an offensive grip, you winced as he tilted your head from side to side, cocking his head.

“We’ll have to work on those manners of yours,” his voice sounded almost as if it were being spoken into your ear, like he were right next to you, his mouth at the shell of your ear.

Then his grasp disappeared from your sore chin and the blaster doors flew open with a hiss, deafening in the silent room. Nobody moved until the doors slid shut once again and then the company seemed to let out a collective sigh.

You, however, stood motionless, breath still caught in your throat. What in the kriffing galaxy had Lantha gotten you into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome to my generic Kylo Ren fic that I just need to write for some reason. She gunna be mostly smut because this is kinda a backseat thing to my main fic [Of Salt and Satin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24483679/chapters/59096419) (a Pirate!Kylo AU) and I just need something to get my sexual frustration out in. Let me know if there are any things you're craving in a Kylo fic, maybe your fave tropes or something you haven't seen elsewhere! lmk what you thought of the first chapter 💖


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